The Journal
by Thayne M
Summary: Teyla finds a journal about her, written by one of her teammates, but she doesn't know who. FINAL CHAPTER UP! R&R, please!
1. An Invasion of Privacy

**Title:** The Journal  
**Chapter Title:** An Invasion of Privacy  
**Author:** Thayne MacHern  
**Summary:** Teyla finds a journal about her, written by one of her teammates, but she doesn't know who. (Set somewhere between seasons four and five.)  
**Rating: **PG. At least, right now.

--

"What do you think?" Teyla asked Tegan, who only gurgled in response before closing his still-blue eyes and nuzzling a little closer to his mother. She rocked him in her arms, humming softly, a large smile on her face, all while studying the book that lay in front of her on the bed. She'd found it an hour or so after John, Rodney, and Ronon had gated to Earth to help Jeannie with a physics issue--something that really only required Rodney's assistance, but Ronon was itching to return to the intriguing planet and John was the only one Sam trusted to keep him in check. They'd invited Teyla to join them, but she'd politely declined, not wanting to test Tegan's reaction to wormhole travel until he was at least able to hold his own head up. She'd walked them to the gateroom and said her goodbyes before walking her newborn son around the city for a while and then starting for her room--that's when she'd found it. In a shadowed corner near the transporter that led to members' quarters was a thin, brown, leather-bound book with the word JOURNAL stitched onto the front cover in golden thread. Looking around and finding no one, she'd picked it up and carried it to her room; she'd been staring at it since then, debating whether or not to open it.

"If I do not," she reasoned _to _her son, but _with _herself, "I may never find out to whom it belongs. However," she sighed and looked down at the peaceful child, "It is an invasion of privacy." Tegan chose then to make another gurgling noise, flailing his arms around, a high-pitched wail escaping him to echo around the room. Forgetting the book for the time, Teyla stood and held her baby to her shoulder, one arm supporting him as the other rubbed his back soothingly, and she shushed and hummed and pressed featherlight kisses against his temples until he settled into a serene slumber. The Athosian woman carefully lowered him into his bassinet--a gift from John and Ronon--before settling back on her bed, eyes never leaving the child's sleeping form. It had been hard, losing Kanaan. Harder still, seeing so many of his characteristics in the child that they made. Hardest of all, knowing that she had never truly been in love with the man that fathered her son--she had loved him, and perhaps could have fallen _in _love with him, but now she would never have that chance. Would she ever tell Tegan such a thing? No, she decided, but she would not lie to him either. She would tell him, truthfully, that she loved Kanaan dearly, and was heartbroken when he'd been lost to her. She would tell him that Kanaan would have been a wonderful father, and she had so looked forward to being a parent with him. A heavy pressure behind her eyelids told Teyla that she was about to lose herself to her sadness again, and she took in a deep breath, desperate to keep that from happening; she had to stay strong.

She needed a distraction, so she reached out and picked up the journal, hesitating briefly before she flipped the front cover open and turned until she found the first bit of barely-legible text.

**Entry #1**  
**Its getting a little harder to keep myself from going crazy. I thought that it would go away after a while. I thought that, if I told myself enough times that it wasn't going to happen, I'd finally be able to convince myself to stop. To stop staring. To stop wanting. To stop shivering each time she came too close to me. But, so far, it hasn't worked. I can't stop thinking about her. Every single night, I go to my quarters alone and the only thing I can ever think of is: I want her here with me. And its not even about sex. Sex is not what I want from her. I mean, its not at the bottom of the list, but its not at the top, either--simply because I know she has so many great things to offer. So when I'm lying there in a small bed that seems like it was made just to make people feel lonely and miserable, I want her there to make it seem not so. I want her to be lying next to me, smiling at me when I'm happy and comforting me when things go wrong and telling me its all going to be all right when I make a mistake. Because that's just who she is--she makes things more bearable, and she doesn't even know it. Does she know it? She's always there for everyone, but does she understand that she actually makes an impact on people's lives? I know **_**I**_** haven't been the same since I met her, all those years ago.  
So I hope that, by keeping this journal, I'll be able to keep myself a little more under control. What good am I if I'm constantly shaking around her, yearning for her? We're on the same team, and we put ours lives in each others' hands too often for me to let such strong, personal feelings cloud my vision. That's how mistakes get made. Maybe if I can write it down--every time I'm feeling these things--I'll be able to lock it away; I'll be able to hide it. She can't know. She can never know. I've been rejected by women before, but I couldn't handle it from her; not from Teyla.**

The woman came to the last word of the last sentence and froze, her finger in place as she'd been marking her reading path, and she felt her jaw drop. Teyla. There was only one Teyla she knew on Atlantis and that was her. Teyla Emmagan. So that meant--what did that mean? Someone on Atlantis had...feelings for her? _No_, she quickly reread, _someone on my _team_ has feelings for me_. She felt her face heat as a blush crept up from her neck--how could she return the journal now, knowing what was inside? And she still didn't even know who it belonged to. It could be John's or Ronon's or Rodney's. It could even be a joke; a prank they'd set out to play on her, planting the journal for her to find after they were gone. But she couldn't see them doing that. Well, maybe to each other, but not to her; they didn't do things like this to her. So that only left one explanation:

One of the men wanted her.


	2. Tuttle Root Soup

**Title:** The Journal  
**Chapter Title:** Tuttle Root Soup  
**Author:** Thayne MacHern  
**Summary:** Teyla finds a journal about her, written by one of her teammates, but she doesn't know who. (Set somewhere between seasons four and five.)  
**Rating: **PG. At least, right now.

--

"I should not be doing this," Teyla told herself aloud as she ran her slender fingers over the soft cover of the journal. It had been two days since she'd read the first entry and she'd been determined to leave the book alone, but it kept finding its way to the front of her mind. Who was it that had such strong feelings for her? Who was it that felt himself losing control? She wanted to know. She had to know. It was times like these when she missed Kate the most; times when she needed someone completely objective--but still gentle and warm--to listen to her and help her. If Kate were still alive, maybe Teyla wouldn't be here. She wouldn't be listening to her son's quiet sleeping breaths, her fingers dancing over someone else's mind and emotions.

She clicked her tongue and shook her head as she opened the cover, telling herself again, "I should _not_ be doing this."

**Entry #2**  
**She lost Charin today. The woman she said was like a grandmother to her--a woman she said would never be worn down by time--died right in front of her. I should have been there. I should have been next to her when that daunting, drawn-out beep began sounding, signifying that the old woman's heart had finally stopped--she was really gone. I should have been there to hold her hand as she undoubtedly tried to hold back tears. I should have told her that it was okay to cry, because--even though her people see death as a new journey--its still natural to feel sadness.  
I watched her walk through those doors in that long, blue dress that held itself so wonderfully to her graceful body, and all I could think was: what am I doing? Why am I not going in there with her? I wanted to, but I couldn't. Its crazy to think that I would have been almost willing to let Atlantis be destroyed just so I could be there for her when she needed comfort. I did happen to walk by the room during the Ring Ceremony, and I could hear her through the walls--her voice came through so strong and beautiful, like her. It gave me chills, and when I saw her later, I found myself wanting to hold her so tightly. I wanted to do this because--even though she'd been singing strong and true--there had been such a large sorrow to her voice that I knew could never be chased away. It is amazing to me, how she has never allowed herself to harden. She has lost so many of her friends and family, and she has every reason to shut down, but she doesn't. She feels everything. Every death hurts her in such a profound way, and she takes it, and she carries it with her every day. Some might see this as a weakness, but I have never known anybody so strong.**

Teyla stopped reading, looking away to rub the back of her hand over her face, where tears had fallen. How could someone see her this way--see her so truly--without her knowing about it?

A grunt startled her from her thoughts and she looked over to see Tegan waving his tiny fists about, whimpering for her, hunger seizing his belly. Teyla put on a smile, thankful for the interruption, and moved to lift him from his bassinet, holding him closely. She went to the small coolling container--something called a "mini 'fridge"--that Rodney had given her during her pregnancy (for those random cravings, he'd said) and extracted a bottle of formula--something Jennifer had ordered for her in bulk--and held it to Tegan's lips. As he drank, taking quick breaths between giant gulps, Teyla found herself humming to the small boy again. This time, it was the tune to which she'd sung the Ring Ceremony song over Charin's body that day. Tegan would never meet the woman--he would never be held by her, never taste her tuttle root soup, never call her "Nana," or some other silly affectionate term like that. They would never meet, just as Tegan and Kanaan would never meet. She was the only family the child had.

As Tegan finished, Teyla placed the bottle on her table and lifted the child to her shoulder, patting his back until the tiniest belch squeaked from his lips. When she brought him back down, she found his eyes had already begun drooping again and she lowered him into his bed and returned to her own, where more of the entry awaited her.

**After all of the craziness was over, we all had dinner together. Me, the guys, Elizabeth, Carson, Laura, and Teyla. Looking at our table was almost funny, because you could tell that eating wasn't something we'd put a lot of thought into at that point in time. We'd all picked up more than we'd ever be able to eat, and most of us had unknowingly selected some of the foods that no one would touch--things like liverwurst sandwiches and spinach soup. Teyla's tray consisted of six bowls (I counted) of different kinds of soups and stews. I know that Charin used to make a particular Athosian soup for her, and the way she stared at each bowl--scrutinizing the contents--made me want to take her hand and tell her that everything would be okay. But that would be a lie. This was Teyla, and Teyla felt things, and Teyla knew that everything would not be okay. She knew from the very beginning that Charin's death would always be a stab to her heart, and there was nothing I could do to stop that. Should I have tried? Maybe. And now, I regret not doing so, but what's the point in worrying about things you can't change?  
I only wish I could make Teyla think the same thing. I wish I could help her heal. I wish that I thought she would let me.**

When she reached the end of the entry, Teyla swallowed and closed the book, her hands shaking slightly. She remembered that night. Herself, Ronon, Rodney, John, Elizabeth, Carson, and Laura. All seven of them had sat around, barely speaking, barely moving, definitely barely eating. They just sat there, all needing to be reassured by the presence of another human being. She tried to think if she remembered anyone looking closely at her, but then, everyone had been looking closely at her. In fact, she'd left the table because of it; the sympathetic glances but words unspoken were hanging to heavily over her.

"Teyla?" A voice crackled from her headset and she jumped slightly before finding the small device and looping it around her ear.

"Yes?"

It was Jennifer's voice that spoke, "Have you had dinner yet?"

Teyla closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember? Had she eaten? When was the last time she'd eaten? That night after Charin's death? No, no; she was getting to wrapped up in things. She shook her head, as if to clear it, and replied, "I have not."

"Would you like to join me?"

The Athosian woman smiled with relief, "That sounds wonderful. I'll meet you in the cafeteria in a few minutes?"

"I'll see you there," Jennifer replied. "And bring that cute little baby with you."

"Yes, of course." Teyla reached up and waved her hand over her radio to turn it off before letting her eyes fall on her young son once more. This was exactly what she needed to take her mind off of the words she'd just read.


	3. Whale Talk

**Title: **_The Journal_  
**Chapter Title:** _Whale Talk_  
**Author:** _Thayne MacHern_

--

"And you have no idea who wrote it?" Jennifer asked from across the table, where she was holding Tegan in one arm and feeding herself with the other. Teyla hadn't been able to keep the book to herself any longer, and she'd confided in her friend shortly after they met for dinner. Jennifer had watched with curious--almost envious--eyes and nodded every now and then, thoroughly interested.

Teyla shook her head, "Only that it was someone from my team."

Jennifer smiled when Tegan made a cute noise and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead before replying, "You should let me take a look at it. Maybe I can figure it out." Teyla agreed and they moved on to a different topic as they finished their meal. Once they were done, the two women returned to Teyla's quarters, where they put Tegan down for sleep and the Athosian woman opened the book, flipping to a random entry and moving over so that her friend could read as well.

**Entry #6  
****I'm a mess. I knew a woman once who used to say she was a mess, and I never really understood what it meant. She used to tell me that being a mess meant you were just a mess, and that never made sense to me before, but now I get it. I'm a mess. I'm a mess because I don't know anything now. I don't know how I should act, or what I should do, or how I should be feeling right now. Guess why? That's right: Teyla. Teyla and Michael. The whole thing makes me sick, the way it effected her; the way it hurt her.  
****She tried so hard. She knew what he was, but she still treated him as a human. She wanted to be his friend. She wanted him to trust her, but I think she also wanted to trust him as well. She truly believed that he wasn't a Wraith any longer. And he wasn't, for a while. For a while, they were close, and that seemed to drive me insane. I think, maybe, I was jealous. It was maddening to me, how quickly they took to one another--the way they looked at each other, like there was some secret between them. He hadn't earned that kind of gentleness from her; he didn't deserve it. So when he found out, and when he began pushing Teyla away, I almost felt...happy? Smug, maybe? It was like, ha, that's what you get for caring about a Wraith. That made me even angrier: how could I think something like that? Teyla has never done anything to deserve what Michael did to her. And I have never felt more pain than I did when I had to watch that fallen look cross her face--that look that said, "I let him down. I betrayed him."  
****Strike that. I've never felt more pain than I did when I saw her face later, after we all returned to Atlantis after Michael took her. The guilt. The self-judgement. The disappointment. Michael had taken advantage of her mind. There was nothing she could have done about it, but she couldn't let it go. She felt responsible for losing him; responsible for possibly realerting the Wraith to the existence of Atlantis. I hate Michael for making her feel that way. I hate him for hurting her. I hate myself for not being there to protect her. Next time (but, god, I hope there **_**isn't**_** a "next time"), I'll be there; I'll protect her. I won't let her feel that hurt again. She's the most amazing person I've ever known, and there is no reason for her thinking bad of herself.**

Jennifer's eyes were wide and she cleared her throat, "Wow."

Teyla finished reading a moment later and took a deep breath, tucking her legs under her and looking away, trying not to remember everything that had happened with Michael, both back then and recently. Her eyes found sleeping Tegan, and she once again thanked the heavens that the team had found them before Michael had had the chance to start his experiments. "Yes, wow indeed."

Jennifer made a thoughtful noise before leaning back against the wall at the head of the bed and tapping her index finger against her chin. "Well, I wasn't here for the 'Michael Experiment,' but I did read all of the mission reports of it. From what I remember," she raised one eyebrow, "Ronon was very aggressive toward Michael; he could be the one who wrote this."

"He was aggressive because Michael was a Wraith," Teyla pointed out.

"Then again, this doesn't sound like this," her friend continued on as if she had not heard her. "I can't imagine Ronon being a writer, let alone a good writer, and whoever wrote this is pretty damn good. Smart. Maybe McKay?" She shook her head, "But McKay could never focus long enough to write something like this. It could be Sheppard, but," she shrugged, "I can't imagine Sheppard having such strong feelings and not acting on them; its not his way."

Teyla hung her head and laughed good-heartedly, "That leaves me right back where I started."

"Sorry." The doctor was quiet for a second before smiling and saying brightly, "Let's read another one!"

"Jennifer, I do not think it would be appropr--"

"Just one more," she begged, "Please? He's so sweet, whoever he is." Teyla just sighed and flipped forward a few pages.

**Entry #13  
****She could have died. She could have died, goddammit, and I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. It was just lucky timing that we were able to save her. Why? Why didn't she just board the Daedalus with the others that were in her condition? Why didn't she leave? Why did she choose to suffer the headaches, the visions, the pain? Why is she the way she is? If I had lost her--I don't even want to think about it. She was unconscious. She was lying there, and she was sick, and she was hurting, and I could have lost her. God, why can't I stop thinking about it? Why does it keep haunting my dreams? Why can't she just let me be?  
****I hate it. I hate that I can't stop thinking about her, and the things that could happen to her, and the things that already have. I said that I would always protect her, but what can I do, really? I'm just as helpless as I was when I was a four-year-old boy, caught in a game of keep-away.**

Tears were falling now, and Jennifer politely excused herself, laying a comforting hand on Teyla's shoulder before she left. Once she was gone, the Athosian hugged her knees to her chest and buried her head in her skirts. Who was she making feel so small? Who cared for her so much that he was willing to be hurt by her?


	4. Fire

**Title: **_The Journal_**  
Chapter Title: **_Fire_**  
Author: **_Thayne MacHern_**  
Summary: **_Teyla finds a journal about her, written by one of her teammates, but she doesn't know how._**  
Rating: **_PG, for now._

John, Ronon, and Rodney were due back in two days, and Teyla was determined to know whose journal it was before then. She was now skipping around to the longer entries (which were never much longer than the short ones, but more information was more information), and she'd come across one that had her eyes welling by the first paragraph.

**Entry #15**

**I can't breathe. I just can't breathe--not when he's not here. Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to be the hero? Why didn't he just get out when we told him to? There was fire. Fire and then ashes. Ash and char and rubble, and now those are the only things left of one of the best people I've ever known. Why did he have to do that? Why couldn't he just walk away? Why was every life so valuable to him? Why was he so willing to die for a man he barely knew? He saw what happened to Doctor Houston--he knew that was going to happen to Doctor James--so why did he risk it? Why did he have to die? Die. Dead. He's dead. He's not here anymore. He's not around to answer all of these question. So why can't I stop asking them? Why can't I stop thinking about it? Why won't the vision of the flames engulfing him leave my mind? God, I just want it to go away--I want it all to go away. It hurts. I didn't know anything could ever hurt this much. I'm trying to be strong--trying to keep my game-face on--but its getting harder and harder every day. And I'm mad as hell. I'm mad that those stupid doctors had to turn on that stupid machine and get those stupid tumours. Why? Why did they have to take him with them? Why wasn't I there to stop him from operating on James--why couldn't I save him?  
And her. She was caught up in the first explosion and we almost lost her. She was in surgery for who knows how long; the spike went right through her. We all went to visit her in post-op and I can't remember ever seeing Teyla look so helpless as she did lying in that bed. And it wasn't because she was concerned for her own life; she was overwhelmed with the loss of Houston's. Survivor's Guilt, is what Heightmeyer called it--Teyla was supposed to be right next to the doctor when it happened, but she'd doubled back for something. She'd been spared. I was so, so grateful, and all she could feel was guilt. Doesn't she know how precious she is? How irreplacable? And if I'd lost her and Carson in the same day--I wouldn't have been able to handle it. I'm barely holding together as it is.  
At the service we held for Carson, she stood strong, even though her injuries were tearing at her and the pain must have been excrutiating. Inside and out. But she stood, for him, because he was her friend. I was lucky to have a friend like Carson--unlucky to have him taken from me. From all of us. And if I didn't know how blessed I was to have Teyla before, I definitely do now. I will never take her for granted. I will never let her get hurt. I will never let her down. I can't lose her, too. I won't survive it.  
We're all meeting for dinner now. The team, Elizabeth, Cadman, Zalenka, Lorne, Heightmeyer, Katie, Doctor Cole, Nurse Lee, and even Doctor James. I wouldn't be surprised if others showed up, too, though. No one didn't like Carson, and we all owed him our lives in one way or another. I can't believe he's really gone. I don't want to.**

Sadness ripped through Teyla and she felt her stomach lurch. She quickly stood and dashed for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before everything she'd eaten that day came back up and swirled around in the bluish water before her. Not only had this entry brought back every sorrow she'd felt over losing Carson, but now she felt every sorrow that the writer felt as well, and it was too much. Just far, far too much. It was bad enough that she had to walk past the stasis room every time she went to the gym and see the clone there, suspended in time until he could be healed; why did she have to be reminded of how hard it was to lose him the first time around? Why did this person--this writer--feel so much? Why did he write it all down so deeply, and so in-detail? And why did he pay so much attention to Teyla's sadness?

Her door-alert began beeping and she pulled herself up from the floor and flushed the toilet, rubbing her hands over her face to wipe away the sweat and tears before going to let the visitor in. When the door opened, it revealed Sam, who was bouncing Tegan in her arms, a large smile on her face. "You know," she said, never looking up, "I love kids. I always wanted one, but it never seemed like the right time. There's a girl back on Earth--Cassie--I helped raise her and I guess I'm like her mom, and I've never felt anything more spectacular than that." She looked up with a bright grin, "You are very lucky, Teyla."

"Trust me, I know," Teyla said with a matching smile on her face, then she looked down at Tegan, "He quite likes you."

Sam laughed, "I quite like him, too." Then to the baby, she cooed, "Is that right? Do you like your Auntie Sam?" She looked up suddenly, a nervousness painted across her face, "Is that okay? Can I call myself 'auntie?'"

"By all means," Teyla insisted sincerely, "You have been like family to me, so that makes you family to him, as well."

The colonel smiled with relief and then, as if remembering why she'd come, said, "Oh, so, um, I'm here because we seem to have a diaper shortage." To Tegan, she added, "Isn't that right, Messy Marvin? Say, 'Mommy, what have you been feeding me?!'" Teyla laughed and held up her index finger before disappearing into her room. When she came back, she had a package of diapers and a small box of baby-wipes (two more products that Jennifer had ordered for her in bulk), along with an extra blanket. She took the diaper bag from Sam's shoulder and slipped the contents inside before replacing it and grinning gratefully.

"You're sure you don't mind keeping him all night?"

"Mind? Teyla, I offered. Besides," she bounced Tegan on her arm and sing-songed, "Who wouldn't want to be around this joy of a fella? I think he's the most charming male on the entire base."

"That he is."

Sam nodded and turned to leave, "Well, we'll see you in the morning. Say, 'bye-bye, Mommy!' Come on, Tegan; say, 'bye-bye.'" The baby gurgled and the colonel's laughter could be heard, even as the doors of the transporter closed behind her and she disappeared. The whole situation sparked a curiousity in Teyla and she went to the journal, turning pages until she found the first mention of her pregnancy. It was short--straight to the point.

**Entry #29**

**Teyla is pregnant. She's known, and she didn't tell any of us. I try to put on a smile--I try to be happy for her--but I can't. I can't do it, because I know its not mine. I can't do it, because it hurts too much to know that somebody won her while I was too busy trying to control myself.**


	5. BabyLove, My BabyLove

**Title: **_The Journal_**  
Chapter Title: **_Baby-Love, My Baby-Love_**  
Author: **_Thayne MacHern_**  
Summary: **_Teyla finds a journal about her, written by one of her teammates, but she doesn't know how._**  
Rating: **_PG, for now._

"So you still really have no idea who it belongs to?" Jennifer asked the next morning as she and Teyla ate breakfast in the doctor's quarters.

Teyla had just munched down on a biscuit, so she just shook her head until she'd thoroughly chewed and swallowed the food. "I am afraid I do not," she finally replied. "It could be any of them. The intelligence in the writing makes it seem like it could be Rodney, but the way he writes of his own actions and his aggression is similar to Ronon, but the gentleness in it is much like John." She sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head, "It is quite frustrating; not knowing."

The doctor leaned back in her chair, taking a long gulp of her coffee before asking, "Is there a particular one you'd like it to be?"

"What? No," Teyla answered, a little too quickly, causing her friend to raise an eyebrow at her. The Athosian sighed again and laughed without humour, "With everything going on, I honestly have not had time to think of romance. Especially so soon after Kanaan..." she trailed off, her eyes clouding slightly. After a moment, she snapped out of it and shook her head twice, sharply, "It is just not something I am ready to think about."

Jennifer raised both of her hands in a motion that said she got it, "Perfectly understandable." Then, veering back to the original topic, she asked, "So, have you read any more entries?"

"A few," Teyla told her, "I have been skipping around; they all sound similar, but they are all heartbreaking in their own way. They are all very sad, because he writes as if I have no idea he exists. I did not know I could make someone feel that way. It feels terrible." She finished off her breakfast and pressed her hands together, brushing away any crumbs, "When I was captured by Michael, he wrote as if he were dying. The helplessness was...so overwhelming. I was up late reading, and I could not even finish most entries; they were too sad." Jennifer leaned forward, unsure of what else to say or do, and simply pressed her forehead against Teyla's in the Athosian fashion before pulling back and smiling comfortingly.

"Chin up, sweetie."

Teyla sighed and smiled reluctantly, "Indeed," and stood to take her leave. She got back to her quarters before Sam had returned with Tegan, so she settled into her bed and pulled the journal close, flipping to where she'd left off. She took a deep breath before she began reading.

**Entry #37**  
**The team has been together since we rescued Teyla from Michael. Not just us, but Carter and Keller and (surprisingly) Lorne--none of us seem to want to let Teyla out of our sights. And that baby--what was I thinking? How could I ever think it would be hard for me to look at him, simply because he was the child of another man? I've never been more wrong in my life. We've been taking turns holding him, and whenever my turn comes around, I never want to give him up.**

Teyla's door beeped and she stood to open it, quickly tucking the journal under her blanket as she went. She opened to door and smiling was unavoidable when she caught sight of the wide grin on Sam's face. Tegan was staring up at the woman with bright, happy eyes and his lips were curled up, his tongue poking out. Sam looked up and chuckled, "I love this kid. He was so good, all night and all this morning. He's already been fed and changed and I even gave him a bath."

"Oh, Sam, you did not have to do all that."

"It was fun," the colonel shrugged, handing the baby over to his mother, followed by the diaper bag. "Any time you need me to watch him, don't hesitate to ask." Her voice became stern, almost motherly, "And I mean that. You're a mommy now, but that doesn't mean you don't still deserve some time to yourself."

Teyla laughed and nodded, "I will remember that, thank you." She pressed and kiss to her son's forehead and nodded to Sam, "Tegan, can you say good-bye to Aunt Sam?" He looked up at her with a blank expression that she couldn't help but laugh at, and then she said her farewells to Sam, only after being reminded that her team would return the next day. As her door shut, all she could think was: _as if I did not know_.

She carried Tegan to her bed and lay down, resting him on her stomach, one hand firmly against his back as the other held the journal over her head so that she could read it. She remembered the two weeks following her rescue from Michael--after all, they'd only been a few weeks before this--and she recalled the group that seemed to follow her everywhere. And, as the journal-writer pointed out, it was strange to see Major Evan Lorne tagging along. He turned out to have quite a gift with children, and told Teyla that he found them calming, and he'd always wanted to be a father but didn't think he'd ever get the chance. After she'd heard this, Teyla had let the man watch Tegan for the night, and soon-after appointed him as one of Tegan's _lethros_¹.

She rubbed the child's back, smiling at the memory of having so many good friends so close, as she continued to read where she'd left off.

**...I never want to give him up. He just has this way of looking up at me with those baby-blue eyes (which I'm sure will soon turn to Teyla's shade of brown) that has my heart melting. He's so small and delicate--it makes me afraid that one wrong move could break him--but when he gets ahold of my fingers and squeezes, I can feel how strong he is meant to become. He gets that from Teyla. And from Kanaan. I wish we could have saved him. I know that previous entries may have said otherwise, but ever since the first moment I held that little boy in my arms, the only thing I could think was, "he will never know his father." This beautiful, beautiful child with eyes so wide and warm and a grip that could already snap a pencil in half--he deserves a father. His father was taken from him, and his mother almost gone, as well. He has her, though; he has a strong, amazing mother that was willing to give her life for his, and I know that she will raise him right. But she shouldn't have to do this alone.  
That's why I plan on sticking around. I mean, its not like I was going anywhere anyway, but now I have to be sure to stick around. No getting killed. No too-long trips to other planets. I want to be there for Teyla, and for her son. If she'll let me, I would like to be a sort of father to him. Not his **_**father**_**-father, of course, because I wouldn't even dream of trying to replace him, but a sort of father-figure. He should have a man he can look up to. Maybe its presumptious of me to think that I should be that man, but I want to be. And I will be. I'll teach him things, and tell him stories, and be there for him when he needs to talk about things that boys are too embarassed to talk to their mothers about, and I'll love him. My god, I already do. He's so tiny, and he can't speak, and--scientifically speaking--he can't even truly show emotions yet, but he can. He shows them to me every time I hold him. He shows them to Teyla every time she says his name, or kisses his forehead. He is an amazing child, and I never stood a chance.  
Kind of like with his mother. There is something about that Emmagan blood.**

Teyla smiled. She was crying again, but these were happy tears. Underneath the entry, the writer had taped one of the little notes Doctor Coleman had made and passed around to everyone. It simply said, "Welcome to the world, Tegan Kanaan Emmagan. May every love, every smile, every happiness find you." On the slip of paper, in the journal-owner's handwriting, squeezed under the text was Tegan's birthdate, followed by a little scribbled heart.

--

_¹_Lethros_, in Athosian culture, were three men and three women that the mother decided had a natural, calming connection with the child--it was similar to the Earthling idea of "soulmates," only non-romantic. Teyla had chosen Halling, John, and Evan as the males, as well as Sam, Doctor Coleman, and an Athosian woman called Itta as the females_.


	6. Bottled Up Amarone

**Title: **_The Journal_**  
Chapter Title: **_Bottled Up Amarone_**  
Author: **_Thayne MacHern_**  
Summary: **_Teyla finds a journal about her, written by one of her teammates, but she doesn't know how._**  
Rating: **_PG, for now._

Teyla didn't hear her door chime, nor did she hear it open to allow heavy footfall to find her. She'd been up until the early hours rereading the entry about Tegan, and she'd fallen asleep with the journal opened against her chest, trying to memorize them in her sleep. She'd given no thought to the coming day...until a shadow fell over her and a deep voice sounded.

"Tey." She jumped slightly, but didn't open her eyes. She didn't need to. Only one person ever called her by that nickname.

"Evan," she grumbled, eyes still closed tightly, "What are you doing here?"

The major sat down on the edge of her bed, causing her to open her eyes a slit and look at him. "Its 0900 hours; your team is due back in a little less than an hour. You mentioned wanting to be there when they returned, so..." he drifted off, eyes finding the journal, "What's this?" He reached out and picked it up, "Diary?"

Teyla quickly snatched it back, putting on a nervous smile, "Yes. My very personal diary, which I--wait, what?"

"What?"

"John and Ronon and Rodney are to return within--"

"Within the hour," Evan filled in, nodding.

The Athosian woman tried not to look too frazzled by the news, and she put on her best nonchalant look, "So soon; I must have overslept." She looked to Tegan's bassinett, where the boy still slept deeply, and then looked back at her friend, "Could you take him for a little while? Just until I have had a chance to shower and complete my morning meditations?"

The man's eyes lit up, "I thought you'd never ask." He stood and went over to the little crib, lifting the baby and cradling him close to his chest, "Hey, there, little man; you wanna come hang out with your Uncle Evan?" When no response came, he grinned, "You don't care, do you? Know why? Because you're asleep." Teyla laughed and said goodbye to him. Once he was gone, she tore open the journal, determined to discover the writer before he returned, and flipped to the final entry.

**Entry #45**

**I kept forgetting to sit down and write, and now there isn't a lot of time, so here's the short-story: Jeannie is having a problem with her latest proof, so we're gating to Earth to "help" her. I put it in quotations, because I don't think she really needs help--I think she just misses me. Who can blame her, though? I'm pretty missable.  
We all wanted Teyla to join us--I, personally, refuse to be left out of Tegan's first trip to Earth--but she said she didn't want to test what would happen if an infant went through the gate. I can't say I blame her, but I don't want to go without her. Since Tegan was born, I've kept true to what I swore--I haven't been away from Teyla for long periods of time, I haven't put myself in any unnecessary danger--so this probably isn't going to be very fun.  
Last night, we were all sitting around and Teyla was flipping through an old catalog Sam had lying around, and she pointed something out. She wanted to know what a certain kind of flower was, in one of the photos. Sam told her it was a type of lily called amarone, and Teyla said she thought it was beautiful, and she wondered what it smelled like. I'm sure we'll all bring back a lot of gifts for Teyla and Tegan, but I'm not leaving Earth without a bouquet of amarone lilies. And, who knows, maybe I'll track down a bottle of Amarone della Valpolicella and finally work up the nerve to lose control of myself. Or not, and I can drink alone. Knowing me, it will probably be the latter, but its the thought that counts.****  
****Just as long as I get those damned lilies.**

Teyla was standing before she'd even finished the last line. In less than an hour, she was going to find out who the writer was; she was going to have her flowers, and finally face the man. For some reason, she felt like she should look special for the occassion, and as she slipped into her shower, she felt both silly and elated. Silly for getting so worked up--how did she know how she was going to feel once she found out who it was? And elated because she very rarely ever felt so anxious and excited about something to the point that she wanted to look nice.

She bathed as quickly as she could before drying and dressing in her nice black shirt (the low-cut one she'd eventually stopped wearing because marines' eyes kept straying downward), and one of her dark silk skirts. Using a method Jennifer had showed her, she grabbed tufts of her hair and scrunched them, leaving her with tight, damp waves once she'd finished. She stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, barely able to think of anything, until she finally heard Chuck's voice say, "Incoming wormhole," over the radio.

Trying to move as fast as possible without drawing attention to herself, Teyla weaved around people until she arrived at the control room, where Evan was waiting dutifully to pass her son over to her. She smiled and thanked him absently, hugging the small boy tightly, as if strengthened by his closeness. She barely registered Sam's, "Lower the shield," as all she could see were the three men walking through to meet them, accompanied by more bags than they'd taken with them.

"Honey, we're home," one of her teammates said, but she didn't know who. She was too busy staring at the red flowers. The only thing she could say as they came up to meet the rest of the group was an breathless, incredulous, "You?"


	7. Snap

**Title: **_The Journal_  
**Chapter Title:** _Snap_  
**Author:** _Thayne M._  
**Summary:** _Teyla finds a journal about her, written by one of her teammates, but she doesn't know who._  
**Rating: **_Still PG._

"'Me,' what, 'me?'" He asked, confusion crossing his face as he studied the woman.

Teyla opened her mouth to speak several times before the words finally came out, stuttered and lame to her own ears, "You...have flowers." She gestured weakly to the bouquet of amarone lilies he held in his fist.

"What? Oh," he looked down, as if he'd forgotten, and held them up casually, "They're for you. You know," he added quickly when everyone looked at him, "You said you wanted to know what they smelled like, and you thought they were pretty, so I thought I'd bring you some. And, did you realize that they are the exact same colour as Tegan's favourite blanket? I thought that was kind of cool, so I--"

She cut him off, smiling, "They are lovely, John," then she held the flowers to her nose and told him, "And they smell wonderful."

He let out a breath and smiled back, "I'm glad."

After the brief greeting in the control room, the three men left to return to their respective quarters to unpack and bathe and rest a little, but they all decided that they would join Teyla, Jennifer, Evan, and Sam at noon for lunch, so they could tell them all about their trip back to Earth. In the time in-between, Teyla paced back and forth in her own room, humming absentmindedly to Tegan as she tried to come up with the best way to handle the situation she was in now. And, moreover, to decide how she felt about John, now that she knew how he felt about her. Did she love him? Well, of course she did--he was one of her best friends. But was she in love with him, as he seemed to be with her? She would have been lying if she said she'd never thought of him in a romantic way, sometimes finding him amazingly attractive and alluring, but she'd never considered acting on such feelings. She'd wondered, of course--wondered what it would be like to kiss him, or to bed him, or to even hold his hand for more than a second when he was pulling her out of harm's way. But she'd wondered those things about a few men in her lifetime--it was a natural curiosity--and that didn't mean that she'd been in love with all of them. She hadn't even _liked_ most of them. So that didn't mean that she had feelings for the colonel.

Then again.

Then again, she'd always noticed the way he spoke to her, looked at her, treated her, ever since the first time they'd met. She'd always been his equal. He'd always trusted her. They'd always been close. He'd always taken her side in any situation, even when others were able to provide good reason for him to think otherwise. And likewise, John Sheppard had always been the one person that, from the very beginning, Teyla trusted with her life. She'd never--even once--had it in her head that he wouldn't do anything to save her. He'd also always been the one person she went to--or wanted to go to--for comfort or strength or advice, and not just because she knew he wouldn't judge her, but because she felt safe with him. And, more than anything, they'd always understood one another; they never really needed words--words were just a way for everyone else around them to know what they were thinking.

Noon came before Teyla was really prepared, and she sighed and looped Tegan's diaper bag over her shoulder before she and the little boy made their way to the cafeteria, where the others were already waiting. She sat between Jennifer and Evan and tried to let herself be as carefree as possible, even when she caught John glancing at her every few minutes. She realized that she'd noticed him doing so many times in the past, but she'd never thought of it as anything--she'd never felt the profoundness of his eyes on her.

"You are so smug," Sam was telling Rodney.

"What?" He defended, "I didn't even say anything!"

She shook her head, "No, but you've got that, 'haha, Jeannie needed _my_ help' face."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do."

"Do _not_."

"You really do."

"Listen, Sam, if I felt smug, do you really think I'd--"

"You are smug, Rodney, and feigning modesty is not fooling anyone," Teyla said, more harshly than she meant. She had tensed so considerably since sitting down--being so close to John--that she found she had no patience for the doctor's usual runaround. Everyone at the table turned in almost comical unison to look at her, mouths opened, though all obviously speechless. Rodney cleared his throat and looked away, suddenly very interested in his food and he began shoveling it in his mouth while Teyla tried to come up with an excuse for her outburst.

Finally, John said carefully, "Hey, Teyla... You okay?"

His voice startled her, but she tried to play it off. "Yes," she forced a weak, apologetic smile for Rodney, "I am sorry; I should not have said that. I fear I have a slight headache today, and its made me rather," she searched for the word, "Grumpy?"

"Ah, yes, well," the doctor cleared his throat again and glanced at the woman, "No harm, no foul, as they say."

She nodded shortly, "Thank you. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I will go lay down for a while," she started to stand, and was surprised when John did the same. He looked up, noticing her reaction, and told her simply, "I'll walk you to your room." She was still for what seemed like forever before she finally nodded and allowed him to walk alongside her as they left the cafeteria.

They didn't speak. Teyla could not stop reminding herself of all the things he'd written about her--her life, her child, her emotions. And John could not stop thinking he'd done something to upset her, because Teyla didn't treat people this way. When they finally reached her room, she started through it, only to be stopped by a hand wrapping firmly around her upper-arm, turning her slowly. She met John's eyes reluctantly, finding his strong with concern. In that gentle voice he seemed to reserve just for her, he asked, "You sure you're okay?"

She sighed and nodded, "I am just a little...distracted. I will be fine." He studied her for a moment, as if trying to find a way to tell her he knew she was lying, but he said nothing. Instead, he nodded too and released her, turning to leave when her voice spoke without her mind's permission, "John, wait." When he turned, she bit her bottom lip nervously and asked, "Would you like to have dinner with us tonight?"

"Us?"

She looked down at her son, who was watching the whole event with wide, curious eyes, "Tegan and I."

John smiled then--a brilliant smile that radiated over his entire face, "Sure," he told her, "I'll come by at 2000."

"We will see you then." When he was gone, Teyla put Tegan down in his bassinet and stood still in the middle of her room for a few minutes before covering her face with her hands and plopping down on her bed. "Oh, my, Tegan," she peeked through her fingers to look at her son, who was now grinning at her, as if he knew her thoughts, "What now?"


	8. Dear Universe, I Hate You

**Title:**_ The Journal_  
**Chapter Title:**_ Dear Universe, I Hate You. Love, Teyla_  
**Author:**_ Thayne MacHern_  
**Summary:**_ Teyla finds a journal about her, written by one of her teammates, but she doesn't know who._  
**Rating:**_ Miraculously...still PG._

Teyla's frantic behaviour had made Tegan cry five times since lunch, and each time it happened, Teyla had considered radioing John and telling him that something had come up and she wouldn't be able to make it. But she didn't. She'd come this far, and as nervous as she was, she wasn't ready to just surrender to her nerves. "An hour and a half," the Athosian woman told her infant son, who was too busy gulping formula from a bottle to pay her any mind. "An hour and a half, and I will be on a," she gulped, "Date...with John Sheppard." But what if he didn't think it was a date? They had shared many, many dinners together and none had been anything more than two friends enjoying a meal, as well as one another's company. Why should this be any different? What reason did he have to think so? She only hoped he was perceptive enough to see this for what it really was--permission for him to lose control.

Twenty minutes later, Teyla began getting ready for the dinner. She dressed herself in a light-cotton, olive-green, thin-strapped dress with a modest--but not prudent--V-dip collar and a hemline that ended just below her knees. A gift from a friend on Ballkan, the dress was formal enough to spark the colonel's interest, but casual enough that it didn't slap him in the face and demand his attention like a lovestruck Manarian chambermaid. The woman added a pair of woven sandels and the necklace--something called "claddagh"--John had given to her as a gift (or an apology--she'd never discovered which) after saving her from Michael. By the time she'd redone her hair and dressed Tegan in one of the nicest outfits he had, it was very near to 2000 hours and her stomach was doing flips fast enough to make her nauseous.

She took a deep breath and began pacing back and forth in her room, shaking her hands in hopes to relieve some of her nervousness, but to no avail. Suddenly, she stopped dead, eyes finding the bouquet of amarone lilies that now stood in a tall vase on the desk by her bed. Smiling smally, she went to them and plucked one from the glass, clipping off half of the stem before slipping the remaining half behind her right ear and situating the flower so that it curved gracefully along her cheekbone. She could smell it, even from there, and it made her smile widen as she couldn't help but think that John had bought her these flowers. That made her think, once again, of all the things he'd written about her and she realized all of her nervousness was for nothing, because she knew how he felt and she knew he wouldn't reject her, and her anxiety fled almost insantly.

And just in time, as fate would have it, because her doorchime went off barely a second later.

Teyla gathered Tegan up in her arms and went to the door, waving her hand over the panel to open it. When it did open, she almost lost her breath at the sigh before her. Now, it wasn't as if John was a very messy man by nature, but when he actually put an effort into his looks, it made his usual style seem downright unkept. Standing in the doorway, in black slacks and an untucked, white dress shirt, his hair combed and sticking up in an intentional way, face smooth and freshly-shaven, was a John Sheppard the woman had never seen before. He had a canvas bag slung over his shoulder and that trademark smirk on his face, which erased any doubt in Teyla's mind that this was the _real _John Sheppard.

All the while she studied him, it never occured to her that he was looking her over with the same stunned expression. "Teyla, you look," his smirk grew, perhaps to disguise the fact that he was a little breathless, "Beautiful."

She felt herself blush and she ducked her head to hide it, "Thank you, John; you look quite handsome as well." She looked back up to see him smiling down at her, and she couldn't help but return it, grabbing Tegan's diaper bag before looping her free arm through John's when he offered it, and they started down the hall.

"Oh," John said suddenly, looking down at Tegan, who watched him with an open-mouthed smile. "You look very well, too, Tegan; I think you got cuter in the time that I was gone."

Teyla laughed at this and stole a glance at the canvas bag, "What is in your bag?"

"Well," John patted the bag with his free hand, eyes forward, "This is our dinner. I thought we could have ourselves a little picnic on the south pier." He looked at her, "Is that okay with you?"

She felt herself blush again under the intensity of his eyes and simply nodded, "That sounds wonderful." The rest of the walk was spent in silence, aside from the small cooes they each made at the baby when he began fussing, and it seemed to take forever to get to where they were going.

But it was worth it once they finally did.

If seeing John made Teyla lose her breath, then the sight before her now asphyxiated her. In the centre of the pier was a large quilt, spread out, surrounded five or six lanterns that casted haunting light over the ocean. Against one of the walls that boxed in the area was a stack of blankets, and next to it was an object Teyla recognized as the portable bassinet that got passed around the base, to whomever happened to be watching the baby at the time. Evan must have given it to John. There was nothing truly spectacular about the set-up, but just the fact that John had thought of it warmed Teyla's heart.

"Too much?"

His voice startled her--she hadn't been expecting it--and she jumped slightly before shaking her head, "Not at all. In fact, I am very flattered that you would go through all of this trouble."

He smiled at her, sincere and warm, "No trouble at all. Go ahead and sit down." She did, slipping off her shoes first before sliding onto the quilt and tucking her feet beneath her, careful to be sure her dress always covered her knees. John followed her motion, kicking off his boots before dropping down next to her, taking the bag from his shoulder and placing it next to him. Then he reached back over one of the lanterns to grab the bassinet and bring it to rest between Teyla and himself, but off to the side slightly. Teyla thanked him and lowered Tegan into it, placing the diaper bag beside it as John began unloading his own bag. It was filled with containers of food he _had_ to have brought back from Earth, because it looked (and smelled) too good to be from the cafeteria. When all else was between them, he reached into the bag for the last of it--first came two metal cups, and Teyla found herself holding her breath. Only to let it out with disappointment when John extracted a thermos of hot tea--he came here without the wine. He came without the intention of losing control of himself.

Aside from that minor snag, they both enjoyed themselves. They ate something called "spaghetti" and "shrimp scampi," along with a wide variety of Earth breads and fruits and vegetables. They talked about John's trip back to Earth, and the Millers, and Rodney's behaviour with his family. They talked about Tegan, and how he was developing, and anything else they could think of. They talked well through dessert (a concoction called "cheesecake," that tasted of neither cheese nor cake, but was delicious all the same), telling silly stories of their pasts, along with serious ones, talking to one another in a way they never had before--all because they weren't ready to return to their rooms.

"I was six," John was telling Teyla as the last of the cheesecake was devoured, "And it was one of those things I just couldn't understand. It didn't make any sense to me that a person could just go out for groceries one day and never come back. I just couldn't," his forehead wrinkled, "Couldn't understand that people were bad, and did things without reasons, and that those things had consenquences. And, above all, I couldn't understand how it was fair for someone to decide that I could never see my mother again; that she wasn't worth being a part of this world." He cleared his throat and licked his thumb, clearing off the bit of cheesecake there, making his voice as nonchalant as possible, "They never caught the guys that did it. Six shots in broad daylight, in the middle of a parking lot, and nobody saw anything."

"Oh, John," Teyla said in a soft, sympathetic voice, "I am so sorry." She covered his hand with her own just as a cool breeze rushed over them, and she shivered against it. He gave her a small smile and pulled away from her to grab one of the blankets against the wall, unfolding it to drape it over her shoulders, to which she nodded gratefully. John took a second blanket and, keeping it mostly folded, covered Tegan with it, letting his thumb run over the now-sleeping child's forehead, brushing back the dark hair there.

"You're a lucky lady," John said, changing the subject.

For about the thousandth time that night, Teyla remembered John's entries, and all the things he'd said about Tegan. The knowledge sparked a sort of daring drive in Teyla, and she moved so that she was sitting side-by-side with John, and let her head droop down to rest against his shoulder. She felt him stiffen--every muscle in this body was tensed--and she was about to pull away when he suddenly relaxed, letting out a deep breath and moving closer to her. Moving so smoothly she almost didn't feel it, John looped one arm behind Teyla's back--under the blanket--and let his hand fall on her opposite side, then brought his cheek down to rest against the top of her head. They stayed like that for a long time, both a little nervous, hearts racing at an alarming pace, but both completely comfortable and content, as if this were the way their bodies were meant to fit together. After what seemed like hours, Teyla's right hand fell on John's left knee, and his free hand moved to take it, feeling the coolness of the night air there. Slowly--painfully slowly--they both began to twist their necks so that they were looking right at each other.

John's hazel eyes had turned a spectacular shade of vulnerable, with flecks of unsure around the pupils, and Teyla couldn't help but be drawn in by them--couldn't help wanting to soothe away that doubt. She drew in a breath and tilted her head up, eyes never leaving his as he started down at an equally slow pace to meet her. This was it. Their lips were just inches away from one another. Teyla couldn't believe it; she was about to kiss John Sheppard. She was about the kiss the man that cared for her so truly and unquestioningly--cared for her son more than himself, no matter who the father was. All at once, it seemed as if there was a cosmic right with the universe, if something this spectacular could happen--if these two people could finally end up together.

And, yet.

"Um," John cleared his throat, stopping in his advances, "I think, uh," he pulled back entirely, scratching his head nervously, abashed, "I should get you back to your room; we're all likely to catch a cold out here."

"A..._cold_?" Teyla said incredulously, eyes wide.

"Yeah, and its late," the colonel continued, already moving to stand, "And we do have to work tomorrow, so..." he trailed off, hoping she wouldn't need any further convincing. And she didn't.

The universe _sucked_.


	9. Dear Universe, Just Kidding

**Title:**_ The Journal_  
**Chapter Title:**_ Dear Universe, Just kidding_  
**Author:**_ Thayne MacHern_

After being walked back to her quarters, Teyla put Tegan in his bed and collapsed onto her own, covering her face with her hands, a blush composed of both embarassment and anger flooding her cheeks and forehead. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Why did she have to be so forward? Everything was going great, and she had to mess it all up. Yes, she knew that John had feelings for her, but did that necessarily mean that he ever intended to do anything about it? In his entries, he said that it was too dangerous to give into his longings to be with Teyla, and John Sheppard was nothing if not stubborn once his mind was made up. So was it useless for Teyla to try and break his resolve? Was it fair, for either of them? Should she just let it go?

But she couldn't let it go. Not now that she realized she had the same feelings for him. And, unlike him, she was willing to get lost in those feeligns; willing to relinquish control.

_Control_.

The word stuck out in her mind and she dropped her hands from her face, her eyes wide. John was a military man; it was everything he was about. His strength, his respect, his leadership, his loyalty, his determination, and--above all--his control. That was it. He was afraid to let go; he was afraid to lose himself to something he couldn't comprehend. Something he had no power over. To him, it was like sacrificing everything he was, and everything he'd ever stood for. She just had to tell him that it was okay; she had to make him see that it wasn't the worst thing in the world. It was just...scary. But how could she do that?

"Any ideas?" She asked her son, who continued to snooze in his blue and white bassinet. Teyla let out a small growl of frustration and sat up in her bed, resting her cheek in her hand and her elbow against her knee, thinking as hard as she could until, finally, it came to her. She dove for her nightstand so suddenly that her bed creaked in annoyance and a candle--unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time--was knocked to the floor and split in half as the woman lunged for the journal. She flipped to the final entry and started the next one on the page opposite of it. Below **Entry #46**, she wrote three words--three simple words in simple black ink--and closed the book. She then stood and, after making sure Tegan was sleeping peacefully, opened her door and snuck down the hall. It was late, and almost everyone was in bed or at their designated late-shift work-stations, but the thought of getting caught outside of John Sheppard's room in the middle of the night made her sneak all the same.

Once she reached her destination, she carefully pressed her ear to the door. There was music playing, and knowing how quiet it had to be for John to fall asleep, she knew he was still awake. Quiety, very quietly, she leaned down and placed the journal on the floor. Then she waved her hand over the chime panel on his door and ran as fast as she could until she'd rounded the corner, to the hall that led to her own room. She didn't stop to watch him come out, knowing that he would look around before going back inside; instead, she made a mad dash for her own room and thanked the heavens that her son would never have to know how ridiculous she looked at that moment.

**--O.O--**

"_When I was the rat--the rat who would be king  
I imagined typhoid and us alone--always us alone  
And I've waited on the sidelines all this time  
And I've a grenade, with our names scratched on the side  
But that's love_"

The music barely registered in John's mind as he lay staring at his ceiling, mentally berating himself over and over again. He'd pulled away. Why in the hell had he done that? He'd almost kissed Teyla for the first time...well, first time with it actually being _him_ in control of his body.

And that was it. Control. How could he ever hope to let himself have something that he couldn't control?

That's when his doorchime began sounding.

He quickly switched off his stereo, just in case it was McKay; with all the crap he gave him, he couldn't afford to let Rodney know that one of his favourite bands was _Canadian_. Then he stood up and walked to his door, waving it open to find there was no one there. He looked around briefly and shrugged, turning to go back in when something caught his eye. That something soon caused his eyes to widen so considerably that the could have fallen from his head in that moment. It was his journal. His journal, in which he wrote all those things about Teyla. How did it get there? And, more importantly, who had left it?

He leaned down and picked it up, quickly carrying it back into his quarters to look through it, as if searching for a clue as to whether or not someone had actually read it. And that's when he discovered who, indeed, had.

**Entry #46**  
**Control is overrated.**

**--O.O--**

Teyla was lying on her bed again, chewing on her thumbnail in a nervous fashion she hadn't practiced since she was a young girl. Did he find the journal? Did he read her entry? Did he care? If he did, she couldn't imagine that it would take him this long to reciprocate. Or maybe he was waiting until the morning. Or maybe he really was going to just let it all go.

She sighed and rolled over to bury her face in her pillow, ready to let sleep take her when her doorchime beeped. She jumped up and was at the door in a flash so quick, she could have dodged a Wraith stunner blast. She quickly ran her fingers through her hair and waved the door open, internally delighted to see John standing before her, hands tucked behind his back, lips pressed together tightly out of nervousness, clothes somewhat wrinkled and worn.

When he spoke, his voice was rough and uncertain, "You found it?"

She didn't need to ask what he was referring to, she simply nodded, "I did."

He nodded, not meeting her eyes. Instead, he glanced over her shoulder, "Tegan still asleep?"

"Yes."

It was then that John's hand appeared from behind his back, one holding two metal cups and the other holding the neck of a wine bottle, "Can I come in?"

Teyla's eyes locked on to the bottle and she read the label quickly. Amarone della Valpolicella. She smiled and stepped to the side, ushering him in, "By all means."

Maybe the universe wasn't so bad after all.

**--O.O--**

**A/N:**

**I just wanted to give a big **_**thankyou**_** to everyone that has reviewed so far. I appreciate it so much, even if I don't reply to every comment like I probably should. I just want you to know that it does mean a lot to me, and I wouldn't not have continued on with this story if not for your kind words and encouragements. The next chapter will probably be the last, bringing it to an even, solid 10 chapters. So I'll try to make it really satisfying.  
Also, the song John is listening to in this chapter is "The Rat Who Would Be King," by Matthew Good Band... I listen to a **_**lot **_**of Canadian music!**


	10. Military Lock

**Title:** _The Journal_  
**Chapter Title:**_ Military Lock_  
**Special Note:**_ Okay, ladies and menfolk, this is the tenth and FINAL chapter, and I'm sad to let the story go. Its like watching my kid graduate from high school or something! -sobs-_

**--O.O--**

At Teyla's invitation, John perched on the edge of her bed and stared up at her, a mixture of excitement and high-anxiety gracing his features, and he made no attempt to conceal it. The woman sat next to him, far enough away so that it wasn't obvious, but close enough so they could both feel the electric exchange at the nearness of their two bodies to each other. John pulled his bottom lip into his mouth--a trademark habit when he didn't know what to do--and cleared his throat. Then, as if remembering himself, he set down the metal cups and wrestled the cork free of the wine bottle, then poured and passed one of the cups to Teyla, who sniffed the liquid appreciatively before taking a sip and smiling at the decadent taste.

"So," she said after a moment, "Is the wine named for the flowers?" She gestured to the bouquet of amarone lilies that still stood on her nightstand, and the now-crushed one that had served as a hair ornament.

John glanced over his shoulder at the flowers and blushed slightly, ducking his head, fingers playing with his cup. "I, um," he shrugged, "I'm not sure. I'm not really a wine expert."

"Nor am I," Teyla smiled warmly at him, mentally begging him to do _something_. "Though, I never say no to a warm glass come festival time. The Athosians make a fine mulled wine."

"Ah, yes," John chuckled, "I've had that wine. Tends to make the brain a bit foggy."

Teyla frowned and looked away, "Perhaps we should be drinking _it_ instead."

The colonel seemed to catch the tone to her voice and his face fell. He was such an idiot. After everything that had just gone down, why did he walk in here and immediately start avoiding the real reason for his presence? Why couldn't he just... He sighed, "Teyla, I'm not good at...expressing..."

"Feelings," Teyla filled in, smiling slightly, "Yes, I do recall a similar discussion taking place." When John chuckled nervously and looked away, the woman sighed and put down her cup, "John, it is not as if you have anything to be nervous about."

His eyes came up to lock onto hers so suddenly that she was glad she'd put down her wine, because the shock probably would have made her drop it. The hazel orbs were now a haunting gray and filled with nothing but seriousness as they poured into hers, "I have _everything_ to be nervous about."

Even though his gaze frightened her, Teyla couldn't bring herself to look away, "And why is that?"

"Because, doing this--whatever this is--would mean giving up everything I've ever been; the only things I could ever count on."

The Athosian drew back as if she'd been struck and looked down at her hands, lying motionless on her knees. Attempting to keep an even voice, she said, "I am sorry that you feel that way, John. I suppose I was under the impression that you could count on _me_."

"I know I can," the gentleness to his voice made Teyla look at him again, and he was smirking, "That's why I'm here." They stared at each other for a long while, not drinking, not moving, and each began to wonder if the other was even still breathing, or if every ounce of energy was diverted to their eyes, burning with the many thousands of things that had always sparked between them but had so long gone unspoken. Finally, John asked, "If you don't have any doubts about all of this, then why don't you make the first move?"

Teyla smiled, as if it were obvious. One hand came to take his free one, and she ran her fingers over the smooth skin there, "Because I read your entries, and I know that you want the first move for yourself. You need it." In that moment, she could have sworn she saw every resolve in John's body break, every sluice slain, and every tiny fraction of emotion come flooding toward her like a rushing river after a great rainfall. So quickly it couldn't be quantified, he slid his hand from hers and brought it to the side of her face, pushing back her hair and brushing his thumb against the softness of her cheek as he went, and he pulled her closer. With a gentleness that preceded the urgency of the past five-plus years, he pressed his lips against hers, light and warm, inhaling deeply through his nose at the sensation that raced through his body. And then he was ruined. Then he was made weak; made human. Vulnerable. He had relinquished all control.

Twisted his shoulder around in an unnatural fashion, he managed to place his cup on the trunk at the foot of the bed before bringing his now-free hand up to rest on Teyla's hip and draw her closer still. His pulled away for a brief moment to look into her wide, happy brown eyes before his lips came crashing against hers once more, this time harder, more desperate, and it almost startled him right out of the kiss when Todd's words came into his mind, "if you were burning alive, would you settle for just one drop of water? Or would you want more?" More, he decided. More, more, one-hundred times over, _more_.

Teyla reciprocated, and it was hard for her to believe that she'd never considered this before finding the journal. How could she think there was nothing between them? This...passion--this fire--it didn't just come from nowhere one day. It was seeded. It was fed. It grew. It festered beneath the surface, waiting to blossom in the light of day. The woman's hands slid up from her own lap to John's chest, grabbing at the collar of his dress shirt, tugging at him, trying to bring him as close as possible to her, as if this thirst could be quenched by proximity alone. She kissed him back with all the intensity he put out, and didn't even think to stop him when he slowly began lowering her backward to lay on her bed. In fact, stopping him was the furthest thing from her mind; she was more focused on getting there more quickly. Her fingers slid down to the bottom of his shirt and undid the button there, then the one just above it. At this small bit of exposed flesh, she smiled against John's lips and ran her fingers over the smooth, tanned skin and dark brown curls that disappeared in either direction of his navel.

The colonel groaned when her fingers fell on his stomach, shivering, and let his tongue slip over his own lips and between hers, which she parted willingly, inviting him in, her own tongue swirling against his as if in battle. This was good. This was so very, _very _good. It was everything he had ever imagined. It was everything he had ever wanted. It was...too much.

No, no, no. Too much, too fast, but too good to pull away. Oh, god.

"John?" Teyla's breathless voice had reached his ears before he even realized he'd pulled back and was resting back against one elbow, eyes wide.

"I--" he looked down at her, and her passion and desire were both so strong and unabashed that he almost forgot what he was doing and moved in again, but he managed to stop himself. He tried to swallow, but his throat was drier than the hot desert that surrounded Atlantis four-hundred years in the future. He ran one hand through his hair, surprised to find it damp with sweat, "We shouldn't do this."

She immediately sobered, "I do not wish to discuss how this could effect our work--"

"No, that's not what I mean," he said quickly, with a breathless laugh. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead, then brought one hand up to push back the hair that stuck to her own sweat-soaked skin. "What I mean is: I've wanted this for a long time. And I know that, if I take it all right now, it won't be..." he smiled down at her, "Perfect. For both of us."

Teyla just stared up at him for a long time, and he was tempted to ask if he'd sprouted an extra head or a third eyeball or something like that. Finally, she smirked and shook her head, "You are truly a gentleman, John Sheppard."

He let out a breath of relief, "So, you're okay with waiting?"

"I am okay with waiting."

"But I should probably go, before--"

"Probably."

John laughed and stood up, pulling Teyla along with him. He went over to the bassinet and leaned down to brush a featherlight kiss against Tegan's cheek before walking to the door, Teyla right behind him. The door opened and he stepped out, then turned around, "You know what I don't understand?" Without waiting for her to reply, he said, "I didn't pack my journal to take with me to Earth. It was locked up in my desk when I left."

Teyla poked him in the chest in mock-defensiveness, "I did _not_ break into your room, if that is what you are implying."

He caught her finger, "I wouldn't think of it," and then he pressed another gentle kiss against her lips before saying goodnight and returning to his own quarters. He had a smile on his face the whole way.

**--O.O--**

"Band-Aids are not all-purpose medical supplies," Jennifer told Ronon as they walked back to the expedition quarters from the infirmary. "If you need stitches, you need _stitches_, not a one-eighth inch square of guaze and a piece of tape."

Ronon laughed, shrugging, "I don't see what the big deal is. If it stops the bleeding, then I call it a--" He was stopped suddenly when the doctor's hand flew over his mouth and pushed him back against the wall of the corner they were about to round. Using her free hand, Jennifer pressed one finger to her lips and then pointed around the wall, releasing Ronon so they could both look.

There, standing outside of Teyla's room, _kissing_ her, was Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. The two spies were both shaking with shocked and silenced laughter as they watched him walk away, swaying slightly out of ecstasy. Once he was gone, they resumed their walk.

"Well," Ronon said, "Considering how long it took for them to finally get together, that was pretty easy."

Jennifer scoffed, "For you, maybe. Do you know how hard it is to pick a lock on _anything_ that belongs to a military man?"

**--O.O--**

**A/N:  
And that's it! Did you like it? Did you hate it? Please read and review!  
Once again, I would like to thank everyone that has reviewed so far. You guys are the only reason I continue to write fanfics. Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou **_**so**_** much!  
Also, I'd like to point out how funny/awesome I think it is that all of us SGA fans have automatically, simultaneously assumed that Teyla's baby will be named Tegan! So great! It just proves our obsession, too, because Teyla's father's name is mentioned...like...ONCE!**


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